


I-S-Beach

by eschscholzia



Category: Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Alien Sex, Beach Holidays, Dancing Lessons, Dessert-sharing, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, One Night Stands, PWP, The Chimaera Crew - Freeform, Vaginal Sex, Xenophilia, porn with a small amount of plot, thryce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 05:23:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17339366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eschscholzia/pseuds/eschscholzia
Summary: Arihnda Pryce is on beach holiday on Rion with her best girl friends. A side mission for the ISB gets more exciting than planned, leading to a dinner-dancing date with Thrawn. She decides some relaxation is just what she needs.





	I-S-Beach

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for AP_Trash_Compactor's "12 Days of Dickmas" challenge. I know I'm a day late, but I've brought this traveler box of Starbucks with me: please, pour yourself some.

The beach at Rion was packed, but Arihnda didn’t think it was unpleasantly so. Luckily Pyrondi had the foresight and the holonet credits to reserve them a cabana. The cabana came with table service, and provided shade if they needed it, a place to stash their ditty bags, and reserved lounge chairs. Faro was making full use of her lounge chair to bake in the sun in her bikini, despite Hammerly’s warnings about sunscreen. She muttered something to Hammerly about Vitamin D deficiencies in space, and the foolhardiness of rash guard shirts and boy shorts. Pyrondi ignored the tiff; she sat under a giant umbrella positioned just so, reading a magazine. She was wearing her standard issue gray one-piece that all Naval types were given in basic training. Arihnda sat next to her. She was people-watching.

The _Chimaera_ was parked in orbit overhead, high enough to be out of sight; she had met them on their shore leave for a Girls’ Weekend. It helped to be the governor of an efficient team that worked like machinery— well-oiled with loyalty and fear. She knew things would run smoothly while she left them behind. She almost considered it time on the clock: studying people, considering their minute movements and facial expressions. It was professional development at least.

Arihnda was sure there were more _Chimaera_ staff on the beach than just the four of them, although she wasn’t sure she’d recognize them out of their Imperial grays. _Context is everything_. Just in case she did run into any of the other Moffs or their underlings, she wore a sensible one piece with a slightly suggestive piece cut out of the side. She liked it: titillating and showy to all and sundry, but rejecting them firmly at the same time.

Hammerly nudged Pyrondi on the shoulder.

“Seriously, Pyrondi? _Blaster Sports Magazine_ on the beach? Don’t you want my copy of _Hello Coruscant_?”

Pyrondi scowled upwards at Hammerly. “I like it. I’m looking forward to my next leave for Opening Day on Aquaris. Don’t lie to yourself- I’ve seen you in the Sporting Goods section of the PX too.”

Hammerly narrowed her eyes, but did not respond. A moment later she chuckled and pointed into the crowd. “Check it out, gang! There’s Eli in his skivvies!”

Pyrondi’s mouth puckered in shock. Faro glanced over her sunglasses dispassionately. Arihnda blinked a few times. Was the sun playing tricks bouncing off the water? Nicely chiselled shoulders and chest, and then she dropped him. He was wearing cutoff camouflage shorts, the ragged wet ends twisted in hanks. Arihnda shook her head, cursing herself for ogling a social and rank inferior like that.

Pyrondi went back to her magazine.

Hammerly guffawed. “You know who we haven’t seen? The Old Man! I wonder whether he wears trunks or small shorts?”

Faro groaned. “Don’t say things you don’t want to visualize!”

“Trunks,” said Pyrondi from behind an article about bird dog training.

“Naw, he’s weird and alien and all that kraytspit. I bet he wears the tiny shorts,” Hammerly insisted.

Arihnda found herself pondering the matter, with a shocking amount of curiosity outweighing her revulsion, although she was loath to admit it, even to her best friends. _Thrawn in trunks, sculpted abs bare. Thrawn in tiny swim shorts barely containing his_ … _Shoot. Why was it so hot on this beach all of sudden?_ Arihnda grabbed her umbrella drink and took a long swig.

It was two and a half— or was it three and a half, the gang had lost count— carafes of fruity meiloorun juice and rum concoction later that they didn’t really have a care in the galaxy. Thrawn and Eli’s sartorial choices had been long forgotten, in the hilarious decompressing that comes with over a decade (and for some a career) at war.  

Arihnda enjoyed the opportunity to take a deep breath and relax. She tried not to think of the coincidental side reason she was on Rion, the reason her shuttle tickets had been paid by the ISB. She was dedicated to her job and her side mission, but she understood that a rested workforce was an efficient and renewed workforce, herself included. She sighed, closed her eyes, and leaned back into her lounge chair.

“Good day, compatriots.”

She must have dozed off. Arihnda struggled to a sitting position. A tall figure blocked the light in front of them.

Thrawn. It was Thrawn. Her counterpart on this mission. She hoped her hair wasn’t a mess or drool on her chin; very professionally awkward.

She shaded the sun with her hand. He was wearing a ridiculous straw fedora, zinc paste on his nose, an elaborately-flowered shirt, and boat shoes. Her eyes drifted back up. Cargo shorts. Why was she disappointed?

“Good day, Sir,” Faro replied, after hurried glances amongst themselves. The other women straightened up to as much attention as a person could wearing a swimsuit and two sheets to the wind. _Thank goodness they weren’t three sheets yet,_ Arihnda decided.

Thrawn looked at his chrono, then snapped it closed. “5:00 on a Wednesday afternoon. The perfect time for a stroll on the beach, wouldn’t you say?”

Arihnda met his eyes. “Quite.”

Hammerly seemed confused. “I think your chrono might be still set on ship time, sir? Today is Tuesday, and it is 3:00 in the afternoon.” She swallowed hard. “But it _is_ enjoyable. Thank you for offering the crew shore leave.”

Thrawn gave a little half-bow. “Ah, you are right, I must check that I have the local settings. I will continue my stroll. As you were.”

He continued along the strand, neatly sidestepping a sand castle, a gaudy colored beach towel with characters from the latest holo-movie, and the _Chimaera_ crew members tossing their ball in the surf.

Pyrondi giggled through her nose. “Did you see that? Oi, Hammerly, you owe me now on the bet. Next round’s on you.”

* * *

 

Thrawn would never be so careless as to have an improperly-set chrono, of course. Arihnda knew that it was a code. She met him the next day (a Wednesday) at 5:00 local time to execute the next phase of their mission. She was dressed in uncomfortably cheerful clothes compared to her usual imperial gray uniform or her work clothes back in her days at Pryce Mining. Even on Coruscant working constituent services there had been little call for a peach sundress with asymmetrical neckline and raffia espadrille wedge sandals. At least she looked appropriately airy and touristy next to her partner, Thrawn. He had changed from his informal beach wear to a more formal powder blue blazer with dark blue paisley pants. He still had the straw fedora. They looked just the part of a couple dining at one of the resort-casual cantinas just off the main square of the city.

“No zinc paste this evening?” she asked by way of greeting.

“Chiss skin is sensitive to the sunlight’s ultraviolet wavelengths. But the sun has sunk low enough in the sky that radiation levels are within acceptable levels.”

Arihnda sighed. Did Thrawn have any sense of humor? “Okay, let’s do this.”

The handoff would be with their contact at the restaurant. The reservations were made under a different name and a burner credit chit, of course. They had been told to order a specific meal as way of identifying themselves. Arihnda sighed. Seven-course meals were havoc on the waistline. _How many hours would she need in the dojo to burn off the calories from this weekend?_ She decided not to think about it as their Callosian spring vegetable soup arrived.

Neither of them knew who their contact was, even whether their contact was a member of the wait staff or the kitchen staff. And yet, with their salad course, she watched Thrawn discreetly twist open a radish and palm a tiny datachip. She also saw someone else, not their server, watch Thrawn do it too. The being carefully stood up, and made its way to the restrooms.

“I think you’ve been spotted,” she carefully said, sotto voce, looking for all the world like she was commenting on the exquisite julienne cuttings of the vegetables.

“Ah, good,” he replied.

She wrinkled her nose. “Pardon?”

“I was hoping we could flush out some of conspirators, too.” He calmly wiped his mouth with his napkin, then placed it beside his plate. “This is our cue to leave.”

“What?” she hissed.

“Let’s go,” he said. He stood, hand beckoning to her as if he were inviting her to a stroll, rather than a hasty exodus.

Arihnda took a deep breath and set her fork down. She grabbed her handbag and followed him out.

The thing about Rion was that one wouldn’t think it had a troubling number of anti-Imperial sympathizers, but here you go. They did not get far before they definitely picked up followers. There was the being from the restaurant, and some of its friends. They dropped their linked arms and the pretense of a meandering stroll and ran. She did the best she could in the not-very-sensible sandals. Luckily the straps turned out to be well-attached. They turned down an alley and hid in opposite doorways.

She took the moment to take a few centering breaths before the gang arrived, peering into the alley’s dim light. _Here goes._ She launched herself at the closest one, using the wooden handle of her handbag to choke him. All the martial arts training she had done over the years made each movement fluid muscle memory. Dividing the thugs, she and Thrawn quickly demolished the attackers. She paused to take a breath, hands on her knees.  

“Nice work, Governor.”

She looked up. Thrawn was standing over her with a sly smile on his face.

Her face felt hot, but was it just their brief exertions? Arihnda brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Thanks, you too.”

“Would you care to join me for dinner?” he asked.

She looked down at her skirt, somewhat rumpled from their exertions. “Like this?” Somehow he had lost his hat. A giggle forced its way up at the thought of it tumbling along the dunes and rocks, but she cut it back with a resolve to pull herself together.

“I believe there is a restaurant overlooking the beach that has a casual dress code. We never got to finish our first meal.”

Arihnda held her hands up, palms toward him. “Okay, okay, when you put it like that.” She winked. “But we’re expensing this one too. It’s the least Colonel Yularen can do for our troubles.”

The terrace looked over the sea, as promised. The restaurant was laid out so that diners ate in horseshoe-shaped booths, each one had a view of the rocky headland. Instead of their stuffy seven course meal, Arihnda was relieved to see there were ordinary local cuisine dishes on the menu. She settled on the Rion sea bass cakes crusted in corn meal and chile peppers with mango sauce. She wondered if it was any better or worse than Lothali sea bass, as the splashing of the surf drifted upwards through the open windows. The sun was setting on the horizon, sending orange glints of flame over the water.  

They waited for their food in silence, and ate in silence, only the the music of the house band providing a backdrop to their meal. Her hand shook, making her clench the utensils even harder to still it. She had accepted any eventuality when she took the mission assignment, and she was prepared for any eventuality, but these sorts of adrenaline rushes always had after-shocks. She watched Thrawn out of the corner of her eye. He calmly ate his jerk chicken sandwich, as if nothing untoward had happened. _What was he feeling right now?_

The house band returned from its break and resumed the upbeat music. She was intrigued that the instruments seemed to be made out of repurposed items like a shipping crate or a blaster case. She tried to focus on the music, breathing slowly in and out. _Control. She must resume control._ Beyond them, couples and groups migrated out onto the terrace beyond.

“I can feel you tapping your toes as you watch the couples on the dance floor,” Thrawn drawled. “You seem quite intrigued by the local customs.”

Arihnda gulped. She was being an inattentive date, even though it wasn’t a true date, only a cover story. “It’s called the ‘Rion shag,’” she explained. “It’s an evolution of more formal dance styles. It’s slower and more relaxed, adapted for the heat of the beach settings.”

Thrawn looked at the dancers for a moment and then turned back to facing her. “If this is a local custom, then I would like to learn it. It sounds like you know how to dance the steps. Can you teach me?”

The bottom dropped out of her stomach. “Umm…” _You only live once_ , she decided. “Sure!” She pushed her chair back and stood up. Thrawn set his jacket on the back of his chair. She felt a twinge of dismay that the linen was hopelessly wrinkled. She turned and walked out to the dance floor, lit by strings of glow lamps in colorful paper balloons. She found a comparatively empty spot in one of the corners, where they were less likely to bump into the other couples. She could tell some were very experienced, doing more complicated steps that evidenced years of working together. Thrawn followed her.

She took a deep breath and held out her hand. “First, you’re going to have to hold my hand. That is how we keep together. We face each other, and do everything mirror opposite. You are the one who leads, that is, give me the cues. I step back on my right foot, you step forward on your left foot.” She counted through the pattern with him, one-two, three-four, five-six. They walked back and forth a few times, to her satisfaction.

“Okay, now you have to feel the music.” She moved her arm, still holding his hand, side to side. “We keep our connection supple, to sway to the music, but not rigid.” His arm immediately lost its previous tension. _Good. He can take instruction._

Thrawn nodded. Despite their linked hands, he had an intense look of constipation, _argh, concentration,_ she thought. On the other hand, he was getting it right and not stepping on her feet or tripping.

“That’s good!” She smiled. Maybe this would work out after all? “Let’s try it _with_ the music now.”

It turned out that he was a pretty good dancer, or at least a quick learner. Despite having jointly outrun a group of Rebel thugs, she wasn’t really sure she was at the small talk level with him. _So, do you come to the Puppalekie often?_ She chose to lose herself in the music and the rhythm.

“Those couples, doing the turns,” he gestured with his head. “Is that something we could try? I think I have the basics down and can try the more intricate forms.”

Arihnda nodded. “Sure. The key is to do everything in the same rhythm. We have to think up a signal that you want me to swing under at the next bar.” They practiced turns out of time for a minute or two, and then resumed the regular pattern, with the occasional variants. She discovered that Thrawn was very good at signalling when he wanted to try a turn; but she wasn’t sure she was up for the fancier flip-drops or jumps that the advanced couples were doing. The moons of Rion were shining over the water, creating shadow-twins of the dancers when  midway through the second set, she realized she was having fun.

The music of the last set stopped just as Thrawn was turning Arihnda under one arm. Arihnda collapsed into his side, breathless. She blinked a little under the intensity of his stare. Neither spoke, but the silence was not an uncomfortable one. She was pinned against his side; their arms were still twisted around each other. Despite their exertions, his skin was still cool.

“That was… educational,” he finally said. “Thank you for teaching me.”

Arihnda swallowed hard as she dropped his hands, freeing herself. She decided this was a compliment. She threw caution to the wind and grabbed his face in her hands, pulling him to her level, and kissed him gently on the lips. His lips were cold, too, but still supple and soft. In a moment, he responded, kissing her back. She knew it was more than business associations normally called for, but she told herself they couldn’t blow their cover.

Finally she pulled back. “Was that educational too?” She put as much of a teasing element into it as she could.

Thrawn flicked his eyebrows at her. “Enjoyable is the category I would use.”

They returned to their table; luckily it was the kind of restaurant where the establishment almost expected people to get up and dance, and weren’t in a hurry to turn your table. They ordered dessert, some sort of dark sugary cake soaked with an eye-wateringly strong alcohol and set on fire, tableside.

“Don’t worry, it all burns off. There’s no alcohol in the cake,” the server assured them.

Naturally, since they were to outward appearances a couple, the server had brought one piece and two forks. Arihnda stared at it for a second, and then decided not to worry about it. She tried to decide which was more insulting, the fact that she didn’t get her own piece, or that the server thought they were a couple. She shrugged the second one off; she would never see anyone here again, apart from Thrawn.

“Cheers?” she said, with a wan smile, still seething at her lost opportunity for diet-busting.

She dug in. A jarring rattle went up her arm. They had bumped forks. Her throat clutched when she realized that somehow when they had returned to their booth, they were seated close enough to each other that they practically touched. Her skin tingled.

“Sorry!” She smiled wanly, quirking one eyebrow.

“Gustatory logistical issues are to be expected in this line of work,” Thrawn replied.

She decided that meant her apology was accepted. From then on, she carefully cut out her portions, making sure she never reached for a bite at the same time as Thrawn. It forced her to eat more slowly anyhow. _Don’t appear like a loth-swine_ , she heard her grandmother say in her head. The cake was darkly sweet, the taste of caramelized brown sugar, and the darkly sour notes added by the brandy and candied fruits. She made sure to get a bit of the buttery hard sauce with each bite.

When there were only a few bites left, she reached for her napkin in her lap. Her hand met the fabric of her dress; it must have slid off her lap. She reached out with her hand to feel for it and brushed something else, soft and smooth. It was the crease of Thrawn’s pants where his hips met his leg. _Crink._ She pulled her hand back as if she had touched a hot stove.

She took a drink of her water to steady her nerves. She was very carefully not drinking this evening; she never drank while on duty. She had touched other people so many different times in martial arts; why was this any different? Thrawn shifted position to reach one arm over the table for the check. His leg pressed against hers, a slight pressure that made the bottom of her stomach drop out.

His free hand dropped below the table, a finger dragged along her leg. She felt the hem of her dress shift higher; her knees felt exposed.

“Ah, yes, everything looks in order,” he said, studying the bill. He produced his wallet from the hand under the table and placed a second burner chit with the tray. He handed it back to the server with a smile just touching the edges of his mouth.

As the server walked away, Thrawn turned to Arihnda. “I think we should kiss to seal our cover. May I kiss you?”

Arihnda sat back further against the cushion. _How could he propose something so matter-of-fact like that?_ Mutely, she nodded. She leaned forward, her eyes closing against the last view of Thrawn leaning in too. Their lips met somewhere over the empty dessert plate. This time she was not lost in the impulse. She savored the wet soft moment when their lips met. He tasted of the cake, as she assumed she must as well. She pressed a little harder, reaching her hand up to cup behind his head. She felt the sleek rayon of his dress shirt under her wrist as it rested on his firm shoulder. Exactly as she had imagined. _When did I imagine his shoulder before_ , flitted through her mind, but soon left. Thrawn put his arm around her waist, drawing her still closer on the seat. His fingers placed a pressure on her side. His lack of body heat was a shock, but not unpleasant after everything they had been through today. _Refreshing. That was the word she had lost._ She stopped thinking, drowning in the moment.  

Eventually Thrawn broke the kiss, their lips drawing apart stickily. She bit her lip, dizzy. The band had stopped; house music played quietly over hidden speakers.

“Arihnda, should we continue this discussion somewhere else?” he asked.     

“Are you playing a game, or is this for real?” She wasn’t quite sure.

“For real.”

Her heart raced as she studied his face. He appeared deadly serious. But he always appeared deadly serious. She huffed, half dark humor, half disbelief in the odd situation. She made her decision.

Arihnda looked at him with flirty side-eye. “At this point it’s traditional to ask my room or yours, but given as there is a gaggle of girlfriends back at my suite, we should probably go to yours.”

“I’ve always been curious what it might be like to have intercourse on the beach. I have seen references to it in many holo-novels and movies. The moons are full tonight.”

Arihnda’s mouth hung open fish-wide. She chose her words carefully to avoid offense. “I think that is more an ideal from the holo-novels than a practicality. In reality, sand gets everywhere and is irritating.”

Thrawn raised his hand to his chin. After a moment’s thought, he lowered it. “Very well. Let us proceed to my room.”

She pursed her lips, feeling her smile radiate out the corners of her eyes. She quickly texted Faro under the table: “Spending the night out; don’t wait up for me.”

A reply came back almost immediately: “Oh you go girl, ;-)”

There was no way on Rion that she was going to tell them who her distraction was. After all, this was a holiday, right? Forget rest, now she was on to relaxation.

She was worried about an awkward speeder ride back to Thrawn’s hotel, but it turned out that he was staying in the same hotel as their restaurant. They walked quickly, steps not quite matching; she had to hurry her steps to match his stride, and yet they stayed touching. Not holding hands (that would be too intimate), but her arm’s length matching his, gently touching, sending shooting awareness down to her toes.

She was smugly impressed that Thrawn was smooth enough that there was no fumbling when he pressed his thumb against the doorpad. Soon enough they were through the door; it hissed shut behind them. She couldn’t wait to go any further in, but pressed him against the wall of the entry hall, arms full around his shoulder. Her breasts tingling against his chest, as she resumed their previous kisses. This time there was no public to hold her back from doing what she felt, but also no consideration of being on display to anyone who could still be watching them. She committed herself fully, nibbling along his chiselled jaw line toward his ear. Thrawn reached through the back of her dress to unhook her binder. Her breasts dropped free. He slid the strap of her sundress off her shoulder, tracing the line of her collarbone with one delicate blue finger, then down along her arm. In one movement, he dipped his knees slightly to scoop her exposed breast free from the fabric of her binder, and stood up straight again. He circled her areola slowly with his thumb, then languidly flicked her nipple. Arihnda moaned as a bolt of pleasure shot between her legs.

She pressed forward into his hand; their bodies were completely touching now. The bulge in his lower regions promised her that he was just as committed to this as her; no pretense. She wondered what Chiss dicks looked like, whether Thrawn’s was something tentacled or equally alien? Chiss were near-human; did the size of a male Chiss’s hands also predict the size of his dick? Thrawn’s large hands had moved to her side. A unbidden thought flicked through her mind trying to gauge its size by how it gently held her waist, and continued out the back of her mind.

She decided turnabout was fair play, if he was making a move to undress her. She took a half- step back, meeting his red eyes. She looked back to his chest and began to unbutton his shirt. He was not wearing an undershirt. With each button, she licked a path down his perfect chest; there was a slight salty taste of his sweat from their earlier workout. Thrawn hummed, a low noise in the back of his throat. He let go of her waist.

Arihnda paused at the closure to his pants, seeking permission with her eyes. He nodded. She popped it open with her thumb and forefingers. With both hands, she slid the gaudy pants down, sinking to her knees, revealing standard plain Imperial Navy issue boxers. _Even on vacation, at his core, he was a military man_ , she mused. The boxers joined his pants, swirled in a paisley puddle around his ankles.

She sat back on her heels, momentarily stunned by the view in front of her. He was red. And some black at the base where his balls were. Two chevron ridges twined up from the base around his shaft fading to a point midway up. The tip seemed normal enough. He was magnificent. And she was going to have it inside her, if all continued according to plan.

“I haven’t shocked you,” Thrawn asked softly. He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“No,” she murmured. “No,” she said more determinedly. It came out almost sounding forced. She looked up into his face.

“Umm...” she bit her lip. “But the rest of you is blue.”

Thrawn laughed, the first time she had ever heard him laugh. “Why do humans have black and brown and yellow hair on their heads when their skin is a different color?”

She felt flustered for asking what was an apparently idiot question, but he seemed to not be offended.

“Go ahead, touch it. I don’t bite. ...At least not there.”

The tension broken Arihnda reached her hand out, curling her fingers around it. It was firm just like any man’s dick, but she felt a constriction of whimsy in her chest. She leaned forward again, putting a hesitant kiss to the tip. A promise of things to come. She tasted a single drop of sweetness.

She stood up, shimmying out of her dress. “I feel overdressed. Shall we retire to the bed?”

“Do we need protection?”

She touched her bicep. “I have an implant.”

She half ran, half skipped to the bed in the room beyond, feeling the cool of the saltillo tiles under her feet. Thrawn’s catlike footsteps made no sound behind her. She pursed her lips happily as she saw the bed was an Onderon-king-sized bed. She impishly supposed the ISB was paying for this as well. She turned down the covers; she would stick it to the Emperor.  

She paused, turning to him. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Was it a trick of the moonslight on his cheekbones, or was he smiling smugly like the loth-cat that ate the cream? “Most definitely.”

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, she sank onto the edge of the mattress. It shifted slightly as Thrawn sat next to her, and she fell towards him. She giggled, and the tension was broken. Thrawn reached out, tracing her lips with his index finger. She leaned her face into his hand, which paused a moment, then traced down her neck, between her breasts, past her navel, and paused at her curls. She smiled at him; he quirked one eyebrow.

His finger continued downwards as she reached for his dick to return the compliment. His fingers swirled around her clitoris as she wrapped her hand around his dick and massaged the tip with her thumb. She had gotten over her original surprise; _it’s not the color, it’s how you use it_ , she tamped down an inappropriate giggle. She quickly lost that thought when his fingers dipped in and out of her, alternately rubbing her clitoris.

After all the worries of the past two years, the problems she was having with the ungrateful rabble-rousers, the stresses of the day, she wanted to lose herself in something simple and gratifying. She wondered what he was motivated by, and decided she didn’t care as long as she got what she wanted out out of the deal. She fell backwards on the bed.

“Please,” she wheedled.

“So impatient,” Thrawn drawled. He climbed over her. Taking himself in hand, he rubbed his dick over her folds, wetting it in her softness. She knew she was ready. She reached for his hand to guide him downward.

“Now. Please.”

He slid into her, stretching her to delicious fullness. _Oh stars, it had been so long since that one disappointing quickie with Ottlis in Ghadi’s office._ She forced that thought from her head, concentrating her smile on the blue face above her. She closed her eyes again, throwing her head into the pillows as he moved. She could smell his deodorant; a tangy fresh spice with a hint of the sweat inevitable at the end of a day. The only sound was their mutual panting and the slapping of bodies. _Yes. This was just what she deserved._   

Arihnda held her breath as she ground upwards into the penis ridges. They hit her in just the right place. A spiralling coil of delight wound up inside her. Something exploded in a flash of light in her brain and she mewled like a loth-kitten as wave after wave of ecstasy rolled through her. Thrawn kept thrusting with her spasms, in a moment he joined her. Thrawn finished with a shout of some unknown word; presumably some Chiss oath, collapsing on his elbows, half-covering her. She suddenly felt a warm glow spread through her lower regions, even more than the oxytocin of her own orgasm. She had always been secretly disappointed in previous sexual experiences because the holo novels described “a rush of warm heat at [the heroine’s] core,” but this time she was 100% sure she had achieved the fictional romantic standards. For all Chiss being cooler-blooded, perhaps Chiss were the impossible apex of sexual intercourse. She, um, also felt sopping wet between her legs.

They lay there for a few seconds, catching their breath in their afterglow, before she slid off her side of the bed, making her way to the door she presumed was the refresher to relieve herself. She looked down and saw a thick line of blue down her leg. She pursed her lips thoughtfully as she dabbed with a tissue. _That was a new one too. Just how much did it take to make a Chiss baby?_ _That was a lot._ After washing her hands, she wrapped herself in a towel and padded back to the bed, where Thrawn was leaning up against the headboard, hands behind his head. _At least they have dark underarm hair like normal,_ she thought, relieved.

She kissed him gently on the cheek as she climbed back in bed.

* * *

 

The gray morning light woke Arihnda up. She tiptoed into the refresher, shutting the door quietly behind her before she turned on the light, so as not to wake Thrawn up while she got dressed. She did her best to freshen up, splashing water her face. There wasn’t a lot she could do about her appearance, but weren’t walks of shame typical on a beach resort? She certainly didn’t feel any shame. She gave a last look at him sleeping so peacefully. Some people looked younger or sweeter asleep, but he was still stern. With her chin held high, she slipped out of the room, back to her friends and the rest of their vacation.   

 

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to AP_Trash_Compactor for organizing this challenge and forcing me to get out of my comfort zone and write smut. I want to thank the members of the Thryce Discord for their encouragement throughout a much more complicated holiday season than I anticipated. I also want to thank my cousin for letting me steal, I mean, re-purpose/recombine the daily specials descriptions from his restaurant. 
> 
> The dick I was assigned is the "[Tyson](https://bad-dragon.com/products/tyson)." If you would like to see Thrawn's pants, you can find them [ here](https://morethan-stats.com/style-cam-newton-wears-flashy-ralph-lauren-paisley-print-pants-for-nickelodeon-kids-choice-sports-awards/)
> 
> I was in a hurry to get this posted; it is un-beta'd and not proofread. If you find anything wrong please let me know.


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